


You Don't Have To Take Your Clothes Off (To Have A Good Time)

by Dracothelizard



Category: Flight of the Conchords (TV)
Genre: Cuddle prostitutes, Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Hair-stroking, Hugs, Platonic Cuddling, Present Tense, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 05:51:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3476900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracothelizard/pseuds/Dracothelizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their night in jail, Bret and Jemaine decide to try their luck at selling their bodies one more time.</p><p>But now, they're cuddle prostitutes. </p><p>(set after 2x02)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Have To Take Your Clothes Off (To Have A Good Time)

“Jemaine?”

“Present.”

“Bret?”

“Present.”

“Murray? Present.” Murray checks off the first item on their agenda. “All right, Jemaine, Bret, I trust that after last night you have finished with your little prostitution side-business and are now fully focused on the band again.”

“Of course,” says Jemaine.

“Well,” says Bret.

“Sort of.” Jemaine and Bret share a glance, then look back at Murray.

Murray’s eyes are narrow. “Sort of?” he asks. “What do you mean ‘sort of’? Either you are or you aren’t a prostitute, Jemaine.” He lets out a huff. “I thought prison would’ve taught you your lesson!”

“Yes, that’s why we’re not longer in the sex prostitution business,” Jemaine explains.

“We’re in the cuddle prostitution business now,” Bret adds, looking pleased.

Murray stares at them. “You’re what?”

“Cuddle prostitutes. You know, cuddles? Hugs, snuggling, spooning, embracing, glomping, squeezing –”

“I know what a cuddle is, Bret!” Murray glares at him. “I meant, what’s a cuddle prostitute? I’ve never heard of ‘em.”

“People give us money in exchange for cuddles instead of sex,” Jemaine explains. “Although I think I have proven that I can, in fact, sell my body to a woman for sex.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t do it, I just said it was a bad idea,” Bret replies, shrugging.

Murray frowns. “Huh. And what sort of cuddles do you guys sell, then?”

“We do the full range, from a brief and reassuring shoulder pat to spooning while staying the night,” Jemaine says.

“And you’re offering these services to men and women?” Murray asks, scribbling something down in his notepad.

Bret eyes Jemaine, and then looks at Murray again. “Well, I don’t do spooning with guys, it just feels weird, but Jemaine does.”

“I keep telling you, it’s not weird.”

“It’s a bit weird.”

“It’s not weird! You’re just annoyed guys only want to pay you to be the little spoon, not the big spoon.”

“I could be a great big spoon,” Bret grumbles. “All I need is one chance.”

Murray has been eyeing them. “So you’ve had clients, then? Actual clients?”

“Yeah, business has been going well,” Jemaine says.

“Has it?” Murray asks. “Has it? Has it really?”

“I bought a new cup last week and we’re not bankrupt yet,” Bret tells him.

Murray nods, scribbling something more down. “Well, as your manager I think I’m entitled to a cut of that money, boys.”

“But we’re not playing music while we’re hugging,” Jemaine objects.

“Well,” Bret mumbles.

“Are you?” Jemaine asks, narrowing his eyes.

Bret shrugs. “I hum a little, sometimes. They like it.”

Murray points at him with his pen. “Aha! I am definitely entitled to a cut of your money, Bret. Jemaine?”

Jemaine slouches in his chair. “I guess sometimes I do sing a song when I’m spooning someone.”

“Good! Now, are there any other differences between your services I need to know about?”

“I charge extra if they want to pet my hair as well,” Jemaine tells him. “Bret doesn’t.”

Bret gives another half-shrug. “I sort of like it and then I feel bad for charging more.”

“Yeah, but you do charge extra if they want to stroke your beard,” Jemaine reminds him.

“Oh yeah, that’s true.”

Murray frowns at that. “Why would anyone pay money to stroke his beard?” he asks, gesturing at Bret’s face.

“Hey, it feels really nice and soft,” Bret replies, sitting up and stroking his beard defensively.

“Can I try?” Murray asks, already reaching out.

“If you pay me a dollar.” Bret holds out his hand, and only after Murray hands him a bill, does he lean forward and into Murray’s hand.

“That is soft,” Murray says, smiling as he strokes Bret’s short beard.

“I think it’s the new conditioner,” Jemaine says. “It’s really working for us.”

Petting over, Murray sits back. “Now, Bret, you owe me fifteen cents.”

“What?”

“You know, since you owe me a cut.”

Bret grumbles as he sorts through his wallet for his change. “Fine.”

Murray grins when he accepts the coins. “Great! Next item on the agenda, have you got your instruments back from the pawn shop?”

“That’s why we’re cuddle prostitutes, Murray,” Jemaine says. “We still need 150 dollars before we can get them back.

“149,” Bret says, holding up Murray’s dollar bill.

“Hmm, well, you can’t really play gigs until you have all your instruments back, can you? So out with you, go hug some people!”

“Murray?” asks Jemaine. “Does this mean you’re now our pimp as well?”

“I think if you’re going to be our pimp you’re supposed to be meaner,” Bret adds.

“Oh. Oh, right. Well, in that case, just – just bloody go and hug some people, then! You bastards! Out with you!” Murray tells them, gesturing for them to leave.

***

Jemaine’s leaning against a lamppost, nodding at a few sad-looking people. “You look like you need a hug, five bucks only.” The people ignore him, but he’s used to that now, and besides, Bret is currently with one of their regulars.

Simon is a friendly student who’s new to New York and who likes to rest his head on Bret’s shoulder while Bret strokes his hair and tells him things are going to be fine. “I’ve got this massive deadline and I don’t know if I can make it, man!”

“You’ll be fine,” Bret tells him, sitting on the stairs to his and Jemaine’s place, one arm around the younger man, using his hand to pet his short, blond hair. “You can do it.”

Simon heaves a sigh and folds his hands into his lap. “You think so?”

His hair is tickling Bret’s neck. “Of course. You’ve been doing great so far, haven’t you?” Simon likes slow, even strokes, and he can hear the younger man sigh with contentment as he relaxes, the stress leaving his body.

“That is true,” Simon mumbles, closing his eyes.

Bret checks his watch. Simon paid for a full ten minutes of shoulder-resting and hair-stroking, and there’s still three minutes left. “There, there,” he mutters, having run out of other reassuring things to say. “It’ll be all right.”

They sit in silence, Bret keeps up the slow, even strokes of Simon’s hair, and removes his hand when the alarm on his watch goes off. “That was your ten minutes.”

Simon smiles as he gets up. “Thanks, Bret.” He stretches his arms over his head. “You’re better than coffee, you know that? Best three bucks I’ve spent all day. See ya!”

Bret nods, and stands up to join Jemaine as Simon walks down the street. “Maybe we should start charging more.”

“What, for shoulder-resting and hair-stroking? Nah, three dollars is fine.” Jemaine turns to an older woman looking at the street, her shoulders drawn. “You look like you need a hug, five bucks only.”

The woman stops, and blinks at them. “What?” Jemaine repeats his offer, and she looks at him oddly for a moment, then smiles. “For how long?”

“Five dollars gets you a five minute hug,” Jemaine explains. “With some mild and reassuring back-stroking.”

The woman still eyes them suspiciously. “This isn’t some trick to rob me, is it?”

“No?”

She then looks around, and eventually shrugs, getting her wallet from her purse. “Thing is, I really could use a hug.” She hands Jemaine five dollars.

Jemaine examines it closely, nods to himself, then gives the bill to Bret. “Time me,” he says, and opens his arms for the other woman.

She wraps both arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest, and sighs when he wraps his arms around her. “That is nice,” she mutters.

“It gets better,” Jemaine says, and pats her on the back with his right hand a few times, then rubs it up and down.

“I had a bad day at work,” the woman explains, her grip on Jemaine tightening. “So many people don’t read their emails, you know?”

“Tell me about it,” Jemaine replies.

“I constantly have to explain everything over and over and over and –”

“Too tight!” Jemaine manages, when her grip gets uncomfortably firm.

“Sorry,” the woman says, her arms loosening a little.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing,” Jemaine tells her, and resumes his reassuring backstroking. He looks at Bret who shows him the watch. A little over two minutes left. “It’ll be fine.”

“I know,” the woman replies. “I know.”

She leaves when her time is up, and she does look a little more cheerful than before.

“We’re doing some good work out here,” Bret notes, looking satisfied.

“We do, and – Mel!” Jemaine hisses, and they both turn around as if they’re intently studying the sign of the Internet Shop next door.

“Hey guys!” Mel greets them cheerfully, grinning at them both.

“Oh, hey Mel, what’re you doing here?” Bret asks.

“I was just in the neighbourhood.” She sidles up to Jemaine. “So, I heard the craziest rumour about you, Jemaine. I heard you were still a prostitute.”

“Uhm,” says Jemaine, as Bret takes a step back. “No, I quit. Completely.”

“Well,” Bret says, and shuts his mouth when Jemaine glares at him.

“’Cause if you were, you could be my Julia Roberts and I could be your Richard Gere,” Mel says, eyeing Jemaine like he’s a particularly nice, juicy steak. “You could be Pretty Woman.”

“I don’t – I don’t really want to be a pretty woman, Mel. Besides, I already told you, I’ve quit the business.”

A man in his thirties in a business suit comes walking up, clearly in a hurry. “Hey, are you two the cuddle prostitutes Matt’s been telling me about? With the soft beard and the spooning?”

“Yes,” says Bret. “But I don’t do spooning.”

“That’s me,” Jemaine adds, then eyes Mel. “Uhm. I mean.”

The business man, all slicked back dark hair and a haggard expression in his eyes, nods. “Matt tells me you don’t mind double-teaming a guy.”

Mel lets out an excited squeak that Bret and Jemaine ignore. “Yeah, you can stroke my beard while Jemaine spoons you. It’s our Business Man Exclusive,” Bret explains.

“Yeah, he said it was great. Really relaxed him.” The man checks his phone. “Are you guys doing anything this evening? Actually, make it the whole night.”

“We’re free tonight, I guess,” Bret says.

“Great, how much?” the business man asks.

“Can I watch?” Mel asks, her eyes wide with excitement. “Please? I’ll pay.”

Bret and Jemaine eye each other. “Well, it’s 150 dollars for the all-night Business Man Exclusive,” Jemaine says, “and another thirty if you want to watch, Mel.”

“If that’s okay with you?” Bret turns to their customer.

“Yeah, whatever. I’ve booked a hotel around the corner, let’s go.”

Bret and Jemaine trail after the business man while Mel trails them. “I don’t want Mel to see us prostituting ourselves,” Bret grumbles.

“Yeah, but if Murray’s gonna get fifteen per cent, the 150 wouldn’t have got us our instruments back,” Jemaine explains. “Fifteen per cent of 180 is 27, so we’ll still be left with 153 dollars, and our cut from what we made earlier today.”

“That’s enough to get our instruments back and for another tea cup,” Bret muses.

Jemaine frowns at him. “Don’t go on another spending spree, Bret, you know how bad you can get.”

“Fine,” Bret mutters, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Besides,” Jemaine adds, “since we have enough now, we can quit the business. We don’t ever have to hug other people for money again.”

“I don’t know, I’m kind of enjoying it,” Bret says, following the business man into the hotel.

“Oh. Well, in that case, let’s continue until we’ve saved up enough for a proper drum kit.”

Bret nods. “And some more tea cups.”

Jemaine sighs. “Fine. And some more tea cups.”

 

 


End file.
